Her hand cups the screen
as the day starts;
it is a beautiful morning.
Tap-typed words replace the need to speak.
The world feels new —
she is of calm mind.
She feeds her mind
with words on a luminous screen.
The information is always new.
There are always fresh starts
and everyone wants to speak.
Fragmented discussions break like the morning.
The expansiveness of morning
broadens her mind
and she finds herself wanting to speak.
Finger taps the tiny screen
in fits and starts —
she spouts ideas as if they were new.
Why does she trust this toy that’s so new?
Glowing gadget invokes the promise of morning,
of the rising sun and cyclical starts,
and a knowing, connected mind.
This tiny screen
entices her to speak.
But does she ever truly speak?
Does she contribute anything new
to the words on the screen,
or simply state stale words each morning?
By recycling others’ words, she thinks she uses her mind.
This is how herd behaviour starts.
The shutdown now starts —
unable to contribute, she can no longer speak,
for her mind,
it is dull, can’t come up with anything new.
The freshness of morning
gives way to the numb screen.
A world of false starts, this repository of the new.
She has nothing to speak of this morning,
for her mind has gone blunt and her eyes glaze over the screen.